


Secret's Out

by gunsmvke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunsmvke/pseuds/gunsmvke
Summary: Pansy Parkinson can’t seem to keep her mouth shut, and Slytherin!Reader is out for blood. However, some things aren’t always as sour as they seem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

“Just take a minute and  _breathe_ , Y/L/N..” **  
**

Vixen Crabapple encouraged you from across the table, a weary expression settling gently over her sharp features as you locked your heated gaze towards the other end of the Great Hall, on the lady of the hour,  _Pansy Parkinson_. She sat among Draco’s friends with a smug grin on her face as she leaned forward, casually gossiping across the table to another sixth year, her eyes occasionally flitting in your direction before a string of giggles escaped the two. Breathing was the  _last_  of your worries, and your roommate’s inability to understand that was beginning to shave away at your already wavering nerves. You shot her an irritated look from the corner of your eye, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach. Your anger was coming in waves, like scalding steam that built up within you, burning you as it valiantly tried to claw its way out and onto anyone in your path. Pansy had listened in on a conversation after the last quidditch match, and learned of your feelings for Slytherin’s golden-boy,  _Draco Malfoy_. Much to your dismay, you’d been head over heels for the blonde since third year, and he’d never once acknowledged your existence― which you had begrudgingly made peace with a long time ago. You’d managed to keep this little secret to the knowledge of very few people, until Parkinson decided to weasel her obnoxiously upturned snout where it didn’t belong, just as she always did. Now everyone knew, and you had decidedly tolerated her torture long enough.

You shoved yourself out of your seat as a peal of obnoxious laughter emitted from Pansy, ignoring Vixen’s pleading protests from behind you as you shoved her from behind. “Oi!” you snapped, your nails digging into the palms of your hands as they held fists at your sides. “Got something to say,  _Parkinson_?” You barely recognized your own voice as it dripping fire and ice, watching as she shot out of her seat with a glare, only for a smug grin to tug the edges of her lips once she realized who you were. “Finally gone mad, have you, Y/L/N?” she had her arms crossed over her chest, mock amusement swimming in her irises as she gave you a once over. You were seething at the arrogance that oozed from her every pore, the pride that she had in exposing something you had held private. You were too caught in your own head to find a quick reaction, so she leaned toward you with her chin raised confidently. “I haven’t got anything to say to you,  _half-blood_.”

That was the breaking point of your patience, your hand coming in contact with her face in an audible smack that sent her back a few steps. You were blinded by a five-course serving of rage, its bitter flavor mingling with the metallic twang of adrenaline on your tongue in a manner that was surprisingly satisfying. You pointed at her with a livid sneer, stepping up into her face as you spoke. “You keep your pretentious, intermeddling ass out of my bloody business,  _Pugface_ , or on Salazar I’ll―” you were interrupted as she swiftly stepped into your space, stood nose-to-nose with you, dark eyes blazing. “You’ll  _what_ , Y/L/N?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but fell silent when you felt a hand on your shoulder, separating the both of you from your primal stance. Draco stood glancing between the both of you in confusion, brows knit together. You felt your blood run cold at the sight of him, pulling away from his touch as if he’d burned you, much to Pansy’s delight. Her face had twisted into a look of pure satisfaction, her smirk returning to its usual resting on her face. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?” he exclaimed. 

Had it been any other moment, you would’ve taken the opportunity to appreciate how gorgeous Draco was, even as his features contorted in worry. What you did instead, however, was push past the both of them in a panic as you ran out of the Great Hall, tears stinging your eyes.  

You weren’t sure how you’d managed to navigate the halls with such efficiency, but once you were properly winded, you pressed your back against one of the cold walls of the common room. A couple gasping sobs leaving you before you managed to get hold of yourself. You felt like your life was spiraling. As if allowing yourself to lose your temper in front of the  _entire_ school, and having everyone know you were in love with Malfoy wasn’t enough, now you’d made a fool of yourself in front of him. “Y/N? S’that you, lovely?” Vixen called softly, rounding the corner to find you just inside the entry, her expression softening.

She didn’t push you to say anything, just slid down the wall next to you and patting the spot beside her on the rug. “That was quite impressive, you know..” Vixen commented, grinning as she caught the light smile you gave, joining her on the floor. “ _Nasty_  one, that Parkinson. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to her like that! You’re a hero, really..” she trailed off, causing you to glance up at her, met with the playful look in her sideways glance. You rolled your eyes in return. Dread had begun creeping over you like an icy chill, numbing your brain as you processed what you’d just done; you’d just painted a target on your back in the presence of someone who held detrimental arrows. Though words had never bothered you, there was no avoiding her revenge for that slap. You felt like a cow being herded into the truck for the slaughter, only a cow didn’t know where it was headed. You weren’t allowed that luxury. Having fallen silent for longer than  intended, you were staring out the window to the floor of the lake, and Vixen could practically hear the gears turning in your head.

“Everything will be alright, you know.” she sighed, nudging your shoulder with her own. “You’ll figure a way to get yourself out of this mess, you always do.”

You hoped she was right, because you weren’t sure what was in store if you didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Draco had watched inquisitively as you stormed out, allowing your form to sprint out of his line of vision before he turned to Pansy with a furrowed brow. He noted that she looked quite pleased with herself despite her reddened face. “What’d you do to her?” Draco insisted casually, slipping his hands into his pockets as he studied her face. She shrugged slightly, taking a step back from him to return to her seat. “Nothing,” she lied, turning to glance across the table at Blaise, giving him a pointed look. “I didn’t do anything to that  _nutter_ , did I?” she restated calmly, as if questioning their friend of her innocence. He only responded with an indifferent twitch of his shoulders that sent the blonde’s eyes rolling back into his head. Draco joined them at the table anyhow, trying not to give more than a slight glance at Vixen when she hurried out of the room to follow you, even if he was lost in thought.  _Who were you, and how had he never noticed you before?_ How he’d managed to miss someone in his own house was beyond him, especially someone as peculiar as you.

ㅡ 

You had hardly slept all night, tossing and turning so often that your roommates scolded you on more than one occasion; so to say you were exhausted was a major understatement. Vixen skipped along next to you, incessantly blabbering about her newest conquest,  _Ernie Macmillan_ , as you both made your way to Potions. “He’s a real dish, babe.” she insisted with a giggle, bumping your shoulder excitedly with her own. “You should see how his eyes  _glisten_ whenㅡ” she stopped abruptly when you were no longer at her side, looking over at you with a wide-eyed look of disdain as she stopped just short of the classroom.

“I can’t go in there, Vix.” you proclaimed wearily as you clutched your book to your chest, earning a dramatic eye roll and exasperated sigh in return. “Get a grip on yourself, darling!” she declared. “You can, and you will.”

She left no room for argument as she confidently grasped your hand and began trailing you towards the door, only releasing you from her clutches once you were in the doorway. Potions had always been one of your stronger subjects, and since Professor Slughorn’s return to the school it had actually grown to be one of your favorite classes. The moment you settled into your seat you could hear Crabbe and Goyle snickering a few tables behind you, but Professor Slughorn cleared his throat, signalling for the side conversations to cease. “I think it would suit you gentleman, as well as the rest of you, to turn in your books to page seventy-eight.” he concluded calmly, his cheery demeanor never wavering.

The sound of turning pages cluttered the large room as he moved around to the other side his table, clasping his hands together. “I expect that very few, if any of you, will succeed with today’s lesson,” he grinned. “Nevertheless, the necessary ingredients have been provided before you.” Your eyes roamed the table inquisitively, taking note of the ingredients carefully: Ashwinder eggs, thorns and rose petals, peppermint leaves, pearl dust, and moonstone. Curiosity got the better of you as you skimmed over the text in your book, catching the line ‘ _the strongest known love potion to date_ ’ as you internally cringed. Of all the potions in existence, naturally this would be the one the professor chose. However, before you could worry yourself too much, Slughorn began his informational piece about the dangers of this potion. “Amortentia is meant to simulate the phenomena of  _love_ ,” he avowed enthusiastically. “Causing the consumer to become infatuated with whomever administered the quaffer. Quite the opposite, however, can be achieved if one simply misconstrues the proper process.”

With a casual wave of his hand, the professor moved to stand behind his own cauldron. “You’ll know you’ve successfully completed your potion by the manner in which the steam rises from the cauldron,” he motioned his finger in an ascending spiral, his eyes bright. Everyone had begun their valiant attempts as Slughorn continued on about the importance of responsibility with this potion, and warning that the use of this potion outside of educational purposes would be punished with parchment work for the next month. What caught your attention amongst his chatter, however, was the sound of Slughorn calling on Pansy; to which you turned in your seat to give a thinly veiled glare. “Rumor has it that Amortentia smells of whatever,” a wicked grin spread over her face as she glanced in your direction. “Or  _whomever_ you fancy. Is that true, Professor?” she inquired with an excellently practiced innocence, her eyes never leaving your own as Crabbe let out a snort.

In response, you released an indignant puff of air from your nose before swiveling yourself back around, busying yourself with brewing the potion so you didn’t have to hear Slughorn rattle on about the findings that confirmed the theory  _Pugface_ Parkinson conveniently pulled from her memory.

ㅡ 

After the given time, and the attentive completion of steps were met, you watched in awe as pearlescent spirals of steam ascended from your cauldron. The concoction illuminated brilliantly before turning a lovely shade of crimson, earning the attention of the professor as he settled his gaze on you. “Merlin’s beard, Miss Y/L/N!” he exclaimed, scuttling over to your side. “I believe you’ve done it! Ah, let’s see..” You watched in consternation as he leaned over your glittering cauldron and took a long inhale, letting the soothed hint of a smile settle pleasantly over his features before he thoughtfully inquired, “Sugared pineapple, firewhiskey, and venomous tentacula leaf.” Standing with a pleased expression, he patted you firmly on the shoulder. “A job  _excellently_  done.” You relished in his praise as he went back to his desk, before Pansy’s voice piped up once more. “What does  _yours_ smell of, Y/L/N?” she snickered along with Goyle, but stopped abruptly when Draco spoke up. “Don’t be a prat, Pansy. Leave her alone.”

Glancing over your shoulder at him, you were shocked to find he was already looking at you inquisitively. The hint of sympathy ghosted over his expression as the corners of his mouth twitched upward, but it was so brief that you weren’t even sure it was there at all. As his crystal irises dropped down to settle on his own cauldron, however, you noticed that it had been glistening as yours did, unacknowledged by everyone else. Forcing yourself to turn back around, you observed the whimsical wisps of steam carrying the distinct smell of your potion through the air. The smell of  _Lania aftershave, citrus fruit, and fresh linens_ enveloped you in a comforting warmth, making you feel slightly dazed. It was so dreadfully  _familiar_ to you, charming despite its usual association with older gentlemanㅡ but you couldn’t quite place it.

As if summoned by your thought, an enchanted paper bird fluttered onto the table in front of you.

Upon opening it you revealed a message written in neatly scrawled, thin lettering: “  **Cheers to being the only two burdened with effortless excellence, Y/N.  - DM**  ”


	3. Chapter 3

Draco had an advantage when it came to potioneering, due to the amount of time he’d spent under the protective wing of Severus Snape since the Triwizard Tournament. He’d spent far too long with the raven-haired professor drilling defense and procedure into his memory to be a stranger to the complexity of laborious potions.  _Amortentia_  was merely tedious work compared to the things Snape had taught him, and it was amusing that Slughorn made it seem so severely difficult. From the moment he was born, his entire life proved to be a never ending lesson on how he was expected to be. He was expected to be the embodiment of perfection, whether in appearance or execution, to have an undying, unconditional loyalty to his bloodline, and to never underestimate the power to be found within pride. His father was the first person to set his expectations of life; never expect praise, even if its rightfully earned; never beg, or apologize, or show weakness. Lucius never taught him how to deal with emotion, however, and that was the exact predicament he was struggling withㅡ an emotion so  _foreign_  that he couldn’t even begin to decipher it. 

Once he’d finished his brew with the required attentiveness, he watched as it began to glitter and glow. The entire elixir turned a brilliant shade of carmine, underlying tones of fuchsia and mulberry dancing amongst the shimmer as spirals of entrancing pearlescent steam ascended from the bubbling cauldron. Draco was quite clever when it came to many things, but he could admit that even this was impressive. The scent from the cauldron engulfed him in a warm security that he couldn’t recall ever feeling prior to that moment, and despite its soothing nature, it set him on edge. The bitter floral notes of  _Daisyroot Draught_  mingled with the earthy tones of the  _soil after heavy rain_ , and embraced the refreshing scent of  _sweet strawberries_. He was ripped from his daze as Professor Slughorn let out an obnoxious squawk of surprise, forcing Draco’s crystal orbs to settle onto you. 

“Merlin’s beard, Miss Y/L/N! I believe you’ve done it!” 

Draco was accustomed to his achievements going unacknowledged when it came to Hogwarts, or anywhere for that matter, so it came as no surprise when Slughorn’s praise fell only onto you. He was used to  _Hermione Granger_  or  _Harry Potter_ soaking up praise for their successes, so he found your moment in the limelight to be refreshing. He smiled vaguely to himself as the surprise in your expression melted into that of appreciative pride, only to wipe it from his face altogether as Pansy’s voice cut through the silence. He was immediately overtaken by the familiar burn of irritation, his hands curled into fists as they gripped the fabric of his robes. It’d been there a while now, this  _anger_ , escaping when he least expected it. He was angry at everyone from strangers to his peers,  _hell_ , he would find himself angry if his sandwich wasn’t quite right. Draco was under immense pressureㅡ a perpetual state of fear ㅡwith nobody he could confide in, and the truth was, he desperately needed positive change. There was more going into his mind and body than he could handle, and he could feel himself slipping away from who he thought he was each time he did something to please the  _Dark Lord_. 

Before he could even stop the words, his brow had creased in annoyance, and he’d told Pansy offㅡ completely ignoring the questioning looks he received from Crabbe and Goyle as he returned his gaze on you. 

And just as fast as the anger was there, it dissipated as your eyes met his; a hint of that previous warmth spreading through his chest, forcing him to look away. 

_Say something, idiot. Do something!_  

ㅡ

You’d received several various gifts from an  _anonymous_  source throughout the next few weeks, and you’d managed to keep it hidden from your roommates. However, today’s theme started before you’d even managed to get out of bed. Vixen had discovered a bountiful bouquet of red roses at the door, and woke you with an absolute frenzy after reading the attached piece of parchment.

“What’s in a name? That which we call a  _rose,_  by any other name would smell as sweet.” Vixen stood at the center of the room, making an absolute show out of reading the message scrawled within the parchment. She stretched it between her perfectly manicured fingertips before shifting her weight to one side, eyes flitting up to you inquisitively before she continued, her tone full of amusement. “Red roses are meant to signify  _beauty_  and  _perfection_. I hope they’re to your liking,  **darling**.” she spat the last word incredulously, slapping you with the note a couple times to emphasize the incoming climax of the message. You had been sitting at the end of the bed in mild dismay, demanding that she stopped hitting you as you pushed yourself onto your feet, rubbing your temples. 

“Signed,  **DM**!” she squawked. 

_Signed who?_  

Your eyes grew wide as your mind was sent head first into a surging perplexity, your feet beginning to carry you across the floor. Everyone was making the trip to Hogsmeade today, and you’d been grateful for it until this strange turn of events presented you with an issue far more severe than your difficulty with Herbology. Since Draco had sent you that charmed note, you’d been waking each morning to a new gift at the door of your room; always with some charming sentiment, but never once with a signature. 

“How could you not tell me about this little rendezvous with Malfoy!” Vixen stipulated, her arms crossed over her chest as she stood dumbfounded at the foot of the bed, earning a bark of a laugh from you.

She’d been silently observing you with an indescribable calm, no doubt trying to read your mind as it raced a thousand miles a minute. “It’s hardly a  _rendezvous_  if one of the members involved doesn’t even know it’s happening! They’ve been coming in for nearly two weeks, but they’ve never been signed.” you insisted with a gesture of your hand, plopping yourself down onto your unmade bed. “It makes perfect sense now.” 

Vixen’s emerald eyes blazed with mischief as she crossed her arms over her chest. Clearly displaying her amusement with a determined arch of her brow, and a simple truth.  

 “You’ve got to confront him, Y/N.”

ㅡ

Hogsmeade was a maze of winding streets, as complex as the heart. The streets were the veins, paved with elaborate cobblestone that had seen a million footsteps, and the people were the blood. You knew every crooked road and alleyway better than the spells and techniques you learned daily, though perhaps not more vivid than the smells that accompanied it; an elaborate mingling of aged parchment, chimney soot, baked goods and sweets, and the warm bitterness of the saloon. 

You’d always felt that Hogsmeade was what a village became when there was no city planning, replaced with a great enthusiasm for jovial experience and tradition. Every building was different, borrowing this and that from another era. It made the place as comforting as a beloved quilt, every patch unique and as eye catching as the one before. Every red was the exact same one, a brilliant cherry scarlet. Every blue was a bright royal hue, neither dark or light. The street lamps were the same canary yellow as the store lights, but it was more than that. The street was free of litter, and the walls were aged perfection. It was whimsical and welcoming, and it was exactly what you needed after the last few weeks. 

You followed alongside Vixen as she weaseled information on Ernie Macmillan’s current relationship status from a few Hufflepuff girls on your trek to the Three Broomsticks. The clouds covered the sun in pillowy wisps, revealing the approaching infliction of more snow. You were appreciating the atmosphere of the village, trailing along with leisure when your eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar face inside of the Honeydukes Sweet Shop, causing your feet to still. 

The encouraging words that your roommate had uttered mere hours earlier ran through your mind, burning every atom like fiery footprints as it came and went. Making up your mind, you watched him discreetly through the window, dressed in his lovely black clothing, his coat undone to accommodate for the heat inside, not a hair out of place. 

However, reality faded back into view as Vixen’s questioning voice called out to you, your decisive gaze settling onto the celadon door. 

“I’llㅡ I’ll catch up with you, okay? Our usual booth.” 

Without waiting for a response, you wandered into the shop, welcoming the pleasant warmth as it soothed your chilled skin. The enthusiastic chatter inside was no different than that on the street, but the scent of sugar and spice was much stronger. Among the _shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable_  stood Draco, clashing drastically from the vibrant aesthetic of the shop in his solid black attire. 

He was the kind of guy that girls fantasized about, his effortless elegance and charm giving him the advantage over most. And though you were never one to follow the crowd, you’d admittedly fallen victim to those blue eyes long ago.

You watched him from across the crowded room, swallowing the nauseating nerves that you’d been fighting with for the past few hours as you took note of his thoughtful expression. He always seemed to be lost in thought these days, in the room but a million miles away. You wondered if he knew how exhausted he looked when he thought nobody was looking, when he let his guard down. He wasn’t particularly special looking to some, but he’d always found a way to stand out, especially as of late. There was something about Draco, that apparent confidence and inflated ego, that had girls muddling their words and blushing uncontrollably whenever he was around. 

Outside it began to flurry, the large flakes invading steady and soft, falling from a sky of white velvet to mask the earth. They came together, and though you knew that you would have to journey through it to get to the Three Broomsticks later, you enjoyed the beauty of it for a moment. It was when you returned your gaze to the blonde that he saw you, a light illuminating his prior melancholy expression into something far more pleasant, his eyes sparkling as he flashed a brilliant smile.  

Over the years, it seemed that distance was no match for attraction when it came to Draco. You could be at opposite ends of the earth, and there would still be a gravitational force pulling you together. Something about the two of you simply matched, unspoken but very clearly felt, and you hardly knew one another. 

You couldn’t help but grow fond of his smile, something so rarely seen anymore, and hardly genuine when one did. It was days like this that you wondered if your mind was an engine or an exhaust, wondered if you were really the master of your individual thoughts, or if they were the result of deep thinking that you were only loosely aware ofㅡ like someone else was deciding for you. You often wondered if he ever felt that way.

A surge of confidence took hold of you, and you proceed to strut over to him despite the racing of your heart. “Funny,” you grinned, tracing your fingertips over the display that he stood on the opposite side of, your eyes never leaving his. “I never took you for a  _sugar quill_ kind of guy.” 

“No?” he chuckled softly. “What  _kind of guy_  do you take me for then, Y/L/N?” 

He looked down at the quill in his hand before settling it back into place, looking back up to you with a playful glimmer in his eyes. You teetered your head from side to side as you leisurely moved around to the other side of the display, as if contemplating the answer with great attention; a dramatized expression of deep thought settled on your features before you shrugged, twirling a violet quill between your fingertips as you looked back up to meet his gaze with a raised brow. 

“The kind of guy to leave miscellaneous gifts at my doorstep.” you proposed confidently, a triumphant smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as a broad smile spread over his features, his head hanging in defeat. “In that case, I should probably tell you; _I prefer daisies_.” 

The both of you bubbled at your comment, the air seeming to grow lighter as your amusement simmered down into mild snickering.

 “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

ㅡ

It had been nearly half an hour since the both of you had settled into the window-seat to watch the chat and watch the snow, and Draco seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. In that proximity you caught a whiff of him, that timeless scent of  _Lania aftershave_  that most wizards associated with their elders, somehow brought back to life on his skin; the bitter spice a familiar wave of warmth through your chest. 

Falling in love seemed effortless in that moment, like the only thing that would ever matter was the two of you, eating sweeties in a window-seat as you watched the flurry intensify into heavy snow.

_It was juvenile, inexcusably naive, and dangerously addictive_ , but being with Draco was like entering a house, and finally realizing you were home. When he smiled, it was like a blanket of security holding you close, making you feel safe. When your eyes met, it was like the stars of a thousand galaxies had unfolded within his irises, only to be seen by you. The feelings that swam within you were  **intoxicating**. You felt like nothing was impossible, like you could conquer anything as long as he was by your side. The reality of it was, however, that his family was full of purist Death Eaters who would rather watch him bleed out before allowing you to be together. That was no secret since Lucius Malfoy was arrested, if it ever was. You wondered if he ever wished things had been different, or if the weight of his father’s expectations had been lifted. 

_You didn’t know much of anything, nobody did._

“You’re not what I expected, you know” you interjected into the silence, drawing his absentminded gaze from the artistic dendrites that were accumulating on the windowpane. “In fact, you aren’t  _anything_ like I’d expected.”

“Thank you?” 

You shook your head slightly, your eyes crinkling at the corners at the sight of his hesitance. “I don’t mean anything by it, Draco,  _really_. It’s justㅡ” you pondered your words carefully, observing the developing tension between his brows as he looked over your face in apprehension.

“Your friends aren’t exactly charming.” you pointed out, meet his gaze on it halted its travelling over your features. “I just don’t understand why you choose to surround yourself with people like them.”

His eyes were like undiscovered waters, so full of life and potential, yet so uncertain. Their watchet hues carrying his emotional currents with great intensity, only promising the observer an opportunity to breathe once they’ve drowned. You wondered if he’d always been so  _transparent_ , or if you’d just fallen victim to a well-placed masquerade all these years. 

He shook his head, a conflicted look washing over his pointed features, his words laced with an underlying, possibly unintentional chill that you wished you weren’t on the receiving end of. “You couldn’t possibly understand, Y/N. You’re just a half-blood.” 

Draco paled slightly at the sound of his own unfiltered words, his gaze falling to his lap. “It’s different, everything’s just  _different_.”

His words stung like a slap to the face, despite the truth behind them. You  _couldn’t_  possibly know, because you had never lived a life anywhere near his own. You’d grown up in an average house, with simple things and a relatively simple life. Your entire existence had always seemed exceptionally ordinary, but now it seemed that nothing in your life was  _simple_  at all. Even with this being true, your knuckles were tensed white as they twisted the fabric of your robes. Your temper had always proved to be a force to be reckoned with, disembodied at times, and hard to control. 

“I’ll have you know, my  _blood_  has never prohibited my fulfillment in life.” you found yourself drawn to your feet, arms crossed defensively over your chest as you watched him flounder helplessly. “Can you say the same,  _Malfoy_?”

ㅡ 

Your words dripped with an underlying animosity that was like acid, and it burned him to the core. Disappointment swam in your irises like a darkening cloud taking over the sky, and he wanted nothing more than to fix it, to take back what he’d said. He never wanted to see that look again ㅡ especially if he was the cause ㅡbut as he was about to speak, the bell at the door rang.

“ _Malfoy_! Blaise is looking for you.” Goyle called out breathlessly, eyeing you suspiciously before he disappeared the same way he came.

Draco spun around to look to the door before looking back to you, a wave of distress briefly evident on his features. In complete honesty, he had never been so scared in his entire life. He was afraid of what was to come, what you would  _think_ of him when it did, and who he was dealing with. And yet he ignored that reluctance within him at the thought of walking away from that warm security that he felt when you were near, taking a step away from you.

“I have to go. I’llㅡ I’d love to see you again.” 

The distance between you was growing, and he was practically willing to beg. Anything you asked of him if it meant he could rid himself of this incessant fear for a moment longer. 

“The Astronomy Tower,” his eyes filled with hope. “Tonight. Will you meet me?” he pleaded, looking far too adorable for it to possibly be legal as he reached for the door.

You nodded, valiantly ignoring every ounce of common sense you had left as your shoulders sagged in defeat. 

“It’s a date!” he declared dramatically as a brilliant smile of relief took over his lips, and with a slam of the door, he was gone. 

_What were you getting yourself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admittedly had a bit of trouble with getting this one to a place I was happy with. It seemed to go in a direction of its own! So, as usual, enjoy! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Draco had been wandering aimlessly around the shop for longer than he’d like to admit, valiantly trying to avoid the group he had accompanied for as long as possible when he spotted you through the window. You wore a deep virescent turtleneck that tucked into the trousers under your house robes, and bulky woolen socks that stuck out from your boots as you trudged through the fresh powder on the street. He admired the look of absentminded appreciation settled over your features as you happily followed along with your friends, but only for a moment before he continued browsing the display he’d been approaching. He allowed his fingers to ghost over the vibrant sugar quills as the bell at the door rang faintly into the crowded room, barely loud enough to be heard over the incessant chatter of the third years that crowded the shelves.  **  
**

He couldn’t help the tension that resided in his muscles, accumulating a dull ache that he’d rapidly grown accustomed to over the last few months, as his mind wandered to all of the tasks that were forcefully bestowed upon him. 

Dread owned his conscious mind, pushing against the confines of his carcass like an invisible gale. It was like his stomach was perpetually locked tight, requesting that nothing went in or out. His face set like rigor mortis, teeth locked together like a vice. He was a prisoner in his own body, and a slave to his troubled mind. 

He glanced up to the rest of the room as someone near him released a howl of laughter, his eyes settling on you in pleasant surprise. You observed the invading flurry for a moment before turning your gaze onto him, almost as if you’d felt the presence of his thieving stare. 

As your eyes met, he felt his heart leap in his chest and his stomach lurch at the tickle of nerves, a smile cracking through the hardened exterior of his previous expression. You swaggered over to him with a disarming confidence that sent a rush of brief panic through his chest, his pulse accelerating considerably despite his apparent calm.

“Funny, I never took you for a  _sugar quill_  kind of guy.” you held him in place with mischievous eyes, your fingers tracing over the display as if you hadn’t seen it a hundred times.  _You were an angel._  

Draco couldn’t help but admire your ability to keep him guessing; from picking fights in front of the entire school and radiating effortless confidence one minute, to making the perfect potion and blushing humbly the next. He hadn’t been able to get you off of his mind, even among all the darkness he’d witnessed, among all the horrible things he had done, his mind always seemed to wander back to  **you**. 

Chuckling softly, genuinely amused by your choice of conversation, he requested your thoughts on what kind of guy you took him for. Your reply sent a swarm of butterflies through his gut, preventing him from holding eye contact as a slight blush heated his cheeks.  _Busted_. 

“In that case, I should probably tell you; _I prefer daisies_.”

Calling this feeling a crush was infantile, something invented by older individuals with an interest in belittling young love. Draco hated it. He didn't have some school-boy crush, his feelings for you had developed with a passion hotter than a thousand suns. You were the only thing that truly  **mattered**. You were constantly on his mind, burning every inch like a fire seed blossoming; you were light, everything he had been missing, and he craved your presence with an intensity that he could hardly bear. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

ㅡ

The entirety of your day after you’d agreed to meet Draco had led you to be consumed in thought. Conjuring every possible scenario that could unfold that evening, both positive and negative, then ran through them again as Vixen rattled on about her demands as your future maid of honor. The unknown was both daunting and exhilarating, and you’d needed reassurance on your appearance nearly three times before you began your journey from the Slytherin Dormitories to the Astronomy Tower. 

It seemed that every floor you ascended only added to your nerves, making it increasingly difficult to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Mr. Filch’s nocturnal reconnoiter was always over by eleven, allowing him ample time to spend with his dreadful feline companion before they turned in for the night. You slithered through the dark hallways effortlessly, despite the impairment of sight due to the torches fizzling out in their holds, having memorized them through your years of wandering about the castle. As your nerves clawed around in your gut, you reminded yourself of the words your mother had assured you with before your journey back to Hogwarts that year. 

_When one simply chooses to be brave instead of allowing themselves to be the puppet of fear, everything will change for the better._

The papers had headlined dreadful occurrences for months, and warned of the dangers that the world was to face upon Voldemort’s arrival. His followers at every corner, emerging from their sulfuric shadows to terrorize the masses, fulfilling whatever horrific demands he gave them without an ounce of remorse. The mere mention of them nauseated you with the overwhelming hatred for the malicious toxicity that poisoned their minds, the cancerous sludge that Voldemort inflicted into whatever vessel he touched. You were prepared for the worst, even despite the frigid burn of fear that rippled through your body at the thought of what could become of your lives. You were prepared to see him, and anyone who trailed in his shadow, diminish in an almighty hellfire. 

You hoped that a miracle would unfold, some unworldly intervention that would allow you to truly begin your life before the darkness had a chance to take it from you.  _You longed for something to lose._

Outside the start of the winter season was beginning the annual breach from the autumnal hold, the ground littered with what had fallen from the afternoon sky as thousands of tiny snow kisses, each so delicate that they’d cease to exist at the touch of your hand. You ascended the stairs leading to the Astronomy Tower, calming yourself with a deep breath as you made note of the sensations you were experiencing. The outside air invaded the warmth of the castle through the open space, enveloping you in an icy vice that sent a shock wave of goosebumps to the surface of your skin, and the enigmatic electricity of adrenaline spread outward from your chest. You favored this time of the day over all. The night promised a beautiful serenity, and presented its infinite wisdomㅡ ageless stories of your ancestors ㅡthrough the aligning stars that littered the velvet black skies. 

You could hear Draco’s footsteps before you saw him, but your amusement melted into surprise as you observed the room.

The torches were lit around the room, providing a romantic glow to the worn stone, and lush blankets woven from cotton strands the hue of petals adorned the wooden floor beside the south-facing window; acting as a resting place to gaze over the Black Lake. Draco looked sick with nerves before he’d noticed your arrival, but quickly brightened as you stepped off of the last step and into the room. 

“Should we be up here?” you inquired gently, curious eyes looking around the room as you made your way towards him. “Won’t the astronomy courses begin at midnight?” 

You watched him smile then, a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet that you felt warmth rush through you. 

“Professor Sinistra only holds classes on Wednesday.” 

He seemed relieved to see you, his shoulders visibly relaxing in your presence. The both of you sat in an unsure silence for an agonizing moment before he spoke out, your mutual gaze breaking so he could motion towards the blankets. He discreetly wiped his palms over his coat pockets as he let out a heavy breath, silently offering you a seat on the blankets. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred, but I brought a few bits for you, if you’d fancy them..” 

You joined him among the cozy nest, nestling into the warm embrace of the fabric, trying to ignore how close he was. 

“Sounds amazing.”

ㅡ

Hours had passed, and it was well into the night when you’d realized how close the both of you had migrated, the heat radiating off of you both within the blankets. You talked about anything and everything, devouring bandofee tarts and pumpkin juice together until you couldn’t imagine stomaching another bite, and now the both of you sat shoulder to shoulder in a comfortable silence as you stargazed. Suddenly, you lifted your hand to point towards the velvety black sky. 

“Do you see that string of stars there?” you murmured inquisitively, glancing over to see Draco’s features scrunched up in focus, eyes straining to find exactly what you were talking about. Chuckling softly, you guided him by his chin, a soft smile ghosting over your features as you watched him nod in acknowledgement. 

“It’s my favorite..” you state confidently. 

“Draco the Dragonㅡ” he cut you off with a snort, which you protested with a playful swat to his arm. “I’m serious, you twit! It’s Latin.” 

“It’s a circumpolar constellation, meaning it’s out all night long every night of the year.” your gaze returned to the constellation fondly, oblivious to his eyes wandering over to watch you as you spoke. “During the summer, Rastaban and Eltanin give him flashing eyes.”

You looked over to Draco to find that his warm gaze had fallen to your lips, dusting a rosy hue over the apples of your cheeks.

“In muggle mythology it’s said to represent Ladon, the dragon that guarded a tree in the gardens of the Hesperides that grew golden apples.” 

His eyes held an indescribable warmth, so fond that you thought you would melt at the end of them. “It suits you, don’t you think?”

He simply hummed in response, earning an inquisitive glance from you. Staring for a moment longer, the both of you withered in the pressurized silence as something between you grew,  _blossomed_. 

“I  _really_  like you, Y/N.” he disclosed gently, his gaze hesitant and warm as if he feared that you would run. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you for weeks, and being with you today..” 

He trailed off, his gaze softening as he looked over your face, a nervous smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I don’t think I could keep to myself if I tried. Whatever this feeling is, if— if you feel it too, I’d fancy giving us a chance.”

A brilliant smile overpowered your features as a fiery warmth burst through your chest, compelling you to surge forward and kiss him. 

After what seemed like a small eternity, you pulled away from him, but only a few inches; your bottom lip taken hostage by your teeth as you observed the bliss on his features melting into delighted realization. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the oceanic orbs that haunted your memory as he smiled. 

“Is that a  _yes_ , darling?” he teased breathlessly as he looked over your features, trying to remember every detail in that proximity. 

“That depends,  _Malfoy_.. Will you share your golden apples?” 

ㅡ

Your fate would have been written in different ink had you not met each other in the Astronomy Tower that night, a different decision would have left you without the other at your side, neither one  **complete**. From that night on you were inseparable, hardly ever seen without the other by your side; told each other virtually everything, never a secret among you,  _or so it seemed_. 

The world had become a broken heart, and all the money in existence could never mend it. _It was nearly biblical._ Problems that once seemed to loom as monstrous as  _Goliath_ , paled in the presence of your newfound stone of love, and any good heart could wield its power as  _David_. Love was the only solution to healing the demolition sprouting all over the world, and you felt rejuvenated, empowered even in the presence of love. 

However, despite the radiant glow of young love being omnipresent in your life, everything had begun unraveling around you at an alarming pace. 

It had been nearly two months since you and Draco had made things official, and the Wizarding World was deteriorating before your eyes, crumbling like granules of sand at your fingertips. Hogwarts had surrounded the campus with an enchanted protective barrier, Mr. Ollivander had gone missing along with every wand in his shop, and Death Eaters were said to be after Harry Potter at the  _Dark Lord’s_  command. He was a menace as far as you were concerned, and you’d frankly grown tired of hearing his name being praised from the heights as if he were an impenetrable warlock made of gold. As long as he was running about the castle, nobody would ever  _really_ be safe at Hogwarts, that you were sure.

Yet, none of these occurrences had truly petrified you until the news of Katie Bell spread like wildfire through the halls. 

Katie Bell had been cursed on her way back from Hogsmeade. The stories varied in detail due to the verbal transference, but what remained consistent was that Katie had been propelled nearly fifteen feet in the air in the presence of the Golden Trio after touching an opalescent necklace that she was instructed to deliver to the Headmaster himself, and that she can’t recall exactly  _who_ told her to do so. 

The attempt on Dumbledore's life, as if it weren’t chilling enough, was sure to be just the beginning of death and endangerment at Hogwarts. So consequently, all trips outside of the schoolㅡ especially to Hogsmeade ㅡwere strictly forbidden until notified otherwise in efforts to maintain security. It was once this news began to spread that Draco started pulling back into himself, seeming to get lost in his head more and more as Katie neared her admittance back into her classes from recovering, and speaking to you less and less. 

You’d allowed him his space, as much as you could stand, until the day Katie returned.

ㅡ 

The Great Hall was filled with a motley cacophony of conversation and laughter when Draco had come through the doors. He was later than usual, but from his exhausted appearance you hoped that it was due to oversleeping, and not another visit with his mother. As he started towards your place at the table he seemed to be distracted by something at the other end of the Hall that halted his movement, his entire face draining of its color. 

With a furrowed brow you followed his wide-eyed gaze to find Katie Bell, who was staring back at him inquisitively over Harry Potter’s shoulder. Whatever was troubling Draco was now becoming a bigger concern, your mind swirling to connect the possible scenarios in which Katie Bell, an elder Gryffindor, had anything to do with your boyfriend. 

You watched discreetly for a moment as Harry seemed to notice her detachment from his conversation, heart beginning to hammer in your chest as his peridot irises caught stormy seas, the tension pressing down until you gently stood from the table. 

You knew Draco quite well, better than anyone ever had, and it made it all the more unsettling to see him so openly displaying his anxiety. Usually, his fear ripped viciously through veins, but never made it far enough to influence the stoic expression he’d practiced so well. His complexion remained pale and matte, his eyes as steady as if he were leisurely window shopping; only exposing himself to those who were well informed on his behavior, who knew him well enough to catch the telltale tics.

However, he was showing pure opposition to his usual mannerisms, his eyes wild and face uncharacteristically glistening with sweat. 

_What could possibly be going through his head?_

An all too familiar look of determination crossed Potter’s face as he caught sight of Draco, and before you could even properly find your footing, he had hurried out of the doors with Potter on his heels; and despite your better judgement, you burst out of the doors to chase the both of them. 

You shoved through the crowded halls, desperately trying to keep up until they turned down a quiet corridor. 

The sound of crashes and bangs echoed viciously, forcing your walk into a run towards the bathrooms, mind racing as you thought of their rivalry. You were tired of the secrets and the lack of communication and the inability to ask for help. He was going to tell you what's been going on if it  _killed_ him. However, all your thoughts crashed to a halt as you burst through the back entryway to the boys bathrooms, and saw Draco laying among the wreckage and water, bleeding inconsolably. 

Your blood ran cold, and you couldn’t process all the questions you’d suddenly formulated as you rushed to his side, soaking your robes and trousers as you kneeled. Shakily your hands hovered over the invading crimson of his shirt, his hand gripping the edge of your robes as he whimpered helplessly, looking at you with a panic that broke your heart. 

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay, lovely..” you sniffled, tears painting your cheeks as they mirrored his own. 

Too caught up in your panic, you hadn’t noticed Harry until he gasped, sending your attention to where he stood, pale and horrified, the  _bastard_. 

Burning rage hissed through your body like a deadly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of violence. It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off of you like ferocious waves. The wrath consumed, engulfing your moralities at the sight of him.  _You’d never been so angry in your life._  The world around you nearly drowned out as you snarled. 

“ _Potter_?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how long this part has taken me! I don’t know what it was, but I couldn’t seem to get the concept out into words. I’ve picked and picked and rewritten and edited until my brain is mush, but it’s time to get it out, even if I’m not entirely pleased with it. As always, enjoy! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun one to write. Feel free to tell me what you think! As always, enjoy! :)

Draco had never felt a pain so malicious. All his pride draining from him with the crimson of his veins, making his vision slightly fuzzy; like the world around him, his insides were in chaos. A mess. Something was burning him, hurting him, something inside him ached. No matter of valiant effort allowed him to pinpoint the origin of the pain. He tried to reason this unbearable burning but couldn't find any. Everything felt confused, like the jumbled game of gobstones. He could hardly breathe, his heart rattling mercilessly in his chest as he tried to accept the terrifying fate he was facing.  **  
**

He was going to die in this horrid place he’d once been so fond of, drenched in recycled toilet water. 

He was going to die at the hands of  _Saint Potter_ , the bane of his very existence. 

He was going to die in front of  _you_ , his angel, his stargazer, his light. 

_He was going to die._

**No.**

Draco wasn’t ready to be done, not when he’d just discovered the good, not when he’d just found the love of his life. There was still so many things left to be done, so much life to be lived. He wanted to spend a lifetime making you smile, making a family, making a home worth living in. He wanted to be your happiness, wanted it to be directed towards him; for him, because of him. He wanted the chance to bring joy; to be the source of bright eyes and dimpled cheeks. Draco had watched you bring so much happiness and light into the world around you, felt the warmth that you’ve given him, and he wanted more. It was selfish, like many things in his life tended to be, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He longed for more time. You had shown him the possibility of beauty and compassion in an ugly, cruel world. 

The air in the room was so brittle it could’ve been snapped by one abrupt movement, you and Harry staring at each other with two very contrasting expressions before you let out a feral snarl of an inquiry. Draco had never seen you so void of yourself, and it did nothing to soothe his malicious nerves. The foreign fires of fury and hatred were smoldering behind your narrowed irises as you visibly weighed the pros and cons of the various and creative means available in that moment for exacting revenge. 

However, all thought for reaction in the room was brought to a screeching halt as Professor Snape swung open the back entrance with a disdainful look of discontent, looking between the three of you before commanding that you remove yourselves from the room. 

Draco watched as you started to lift yourself to your feet, only to hesitate as you caught his blurred gaze, twisting your features into a pained expression. 

“Y/L/N.” Snape huffed indignantly as he knelt beside the boy’s ashen figure.

Reluctantly, you pushed back the platinum tendrils sticking to his forehead before pressing a tender kiss to his clammy skin, giving him one last look before the loud rattle of the door hinges brought you back to reality. 

**Potter.**

ㅡ

Ripping down the halls on Harry’s heels with a determination that you had never experienced before, you assured yourself that Snape would handle it, and that Draco would be okay. 

_He had to be okay._

_What if he wasn’t okay?_

There was a scream from deep within the confines of your body that forced its way from your mouth in the form of Potter’s name, sounding so acidic, so malicious and cold that you hardly recognized that it came from you. It was as if your soul was rattling your bones like prison bars, clawing at the inner walls of your carcass like a demon begging to be unleashed. All you felt was anger, all rational thought of cause and effect, of karma and consequence seemed to escape you, and you allowed that fiery emotion to lead you. 

Somewhere in the back of your consciousness you were aware of how unhinged you looked, how surprising your behavior was, aware of all the eyes on your fleeing figures shoving past everyone. You were screaming incessantly after Harry, and couldn’t really couldn’t bring yourself to care about what anyone would think of it. Everything he could ever want was laid before him on a platter from the moment he set foot on campus, and he squandered it like an ill-raised child. Gryiffindor’s golden boy had royally screwed up this time, and you refused to let him get away with it. Not this time. Ungrateful, undeserving Harry Potter had added another notch to his belt;  _attempted murder_. 

“Hey!”

You shoved him forward with so much force that he almost toppled forward, spinning around to face you with wild peridot eyes. 

“I never meant to hurt anyone, I swear! I panicked, and it was just the first spellㅡ”

It was like a vexing of the soul for what you felt was not human, it was twisted and distorted but it was something strong. It burned like fire lacing your veins and creeping up your spine. Your face was red with emotion, and all you could feel was desire; desire to hate. You were intoxicated with this storm of emotion that you had no prior intention of ever feeling, the acidity of it residing in your stomach waiting to be spewed from your mouth in the form of verbal vulgarity so unlike your usual dialect. However, you decided that you wouldn’t be saying them, but rather enacting them violently with every ounce of breath that dwelled in your lungs. 

“You heedless, lying, vindictive little toad!” you hissed. 

Despite your proper upbringing and better judgement you reared back your fist, and rammed it into his nose with a nauseating crack, sending him momentarily reeling back into the wall. You stood with your fists at your sides, relishing in the astonished chatter of the hallway beginning to buzz in your ears. 

“I see you so much as look at him again and I’ll kill you,  _Potter_.”

Harry reached up indignantly to wipe the fresh blood from his upper lip, briefly glancing at the streaks painting his knuckles before setting his glare on you. “Is that a  _threat_ , Y/L/N?” Harry inquired frigidly, stepping forward as you did the same, mirroring looks of determined confidence. 

There was a stillness on both sides, pulling the cord taught between you, daring the other to retaliate; mutual disdain painting the aura among them an alarming shade of cherry red. 

“It’s a promise.”


End file.
